


Valhalla

by Daisy_Morgan



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Best Friends, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e06 The Fix, Episode: s02e05 Gillian, Episode: s04e22 Sweet Revenge, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Me and thee, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Morgan/pseuds/Daisy_Morgan
Summary: I want to tell you what happened after the world ended, for those of you who don't know the story.The curly one and the blond one ain't like the rest of us. They never was. They're special.Some say that theirs is the greatest love story of all time.I would tell you more, but I can't stop thinkin' about that red underwear.





	Valhalla

**Prologue**

The end of the world has already happened and you're all in hell. That's according to ‘Lijah, anyway. Although technically you're all in purgatory.

Some people believe all but the worst sinners must go to purgatory to be cleansed of their sins before they can enter the gates of heaven.

Most believe that the cleansing is purely spiritual, but not me. I believe that sins can only be cleansed by enduring a trial by fire. Only then can one gain admittance to heaven.

By the way, unrepentant sinners don't go to purgatory; they just go straight to hell.

So what happens if you don't believe in the concept of heaven and the pearly gates? That's OK, you'll go to whichever happy place you believe in. Each of you who pass your trial by fire will someday go to your own preferred version of it.

So why did ‘Lijah say _hell_ instead of _purgatory_? Well, I don't want to be mean or nothin', but purgatory was too abstract of a concept for him. He understood hell better, so that's what he called it. It didn't really make no difference what word he used, ‘cause to him, it was hell on earth, either way.

You might ask, "Will my loved ones end up in their own version of the happy place and we won't be together?" Don't worry, you'll still be together, regardless. Because they will experience what makes them happy, and you will experience what makes you happy, each according to your preferences; but you'll be together just the same.

Say for example, you like to indulge in endless quantities of junk food, like chili dogs with all the fixins, wearin' overpriced watches, and drivin' a tomatuh with a jive cheap stripe on it (as Merl is fond of sayin'); while your friend likes to partake of beer, blackstrap molasses, and impregnated wheat germ, while gazin' at sunsets every night.

Well, the two of you can do that together, while not annoyin' the other one, all the while sittin' side-by-side, and neither will be the worse for wear.

Anyway, I'm here to tell you what happened after the world ended, for those of you who don't know the story.

**Part One - A Love Story**

It began in a gritty alleyway in Bay City, Anywhere. Some people think that's a stand-in for Los Angeles, California. But you know what? It's a stand in for anywhere and everywhere.

All of you live there, each in your own version of Bay City.

My friends and I lived there too, before each of us, in our own time, went through our own trials by fire and ended up where we are now. You'll be happy to hear that we passed with flyin' colors.

First of all, you should know that the curly one and the blond one ain't like the rest of us. They never was. They're special. You might say they have been bestowed with grace from a higher power.

They were blessed with a friendship that was unequaled. A love for each other that was eternal. They woulda each given their life to save the other.

And despite how much they enjoyed women, there was not a woman on this earth who they could ever love more than they loved each other. They was always happiest when they was together.

How many of us know what it feels like to have a friend like that?

Their love for each other was a shining beacon in a otherwise dark and forbidding world. It shielded them from harm, guided them through the worst that was thrown at them, and offered them respite in the most trying of times.

And because they are not selfish men, they extended that love to the marginalized and misfortunate, the refuse and undesirables who are too often treated by society with judgement and scorn. They had a soft spot for people like that and would go out of their way to show them compassion and decency.

They certainly did so for 'Lijah and for me, and I was mighty touched by their consideration. I was a nobody but that ain't stop them from goin' out their way to advocate on my behalf.

Them boys had to go through a trial by fire too, in order to get where they are now, because that's how it works. You don't get to kill a bunch of people and expect to one day be welcomed by St. Peter with open arms, even if all your victims are bad guys.

Because there ain't nothin' in the Ten Commandments that says "Thou shalt not kill except when it's bad guys."

And boy, did they go through some trials! They had no idea what they would be getting' themselves into after saying it would hurt like hell if they stayed home and sat on their tails. Because, gosh damn, it sure hurt when they went out on the streets. And even sometimes when they stayed home in bed.

But their love, their friendship, and their undying support for each other is why they made it through each of them trials. It's why they survived everything they went through and come out the other side together.

Without their love for each other, they surely woulda died a hundred times or more. They wouldn't have been able to slog through the wretchedness they encountered day-in and day-out without goin' nuts. Or endin' up strung out in some gutter somewhere. Or one dead and the other heartbroken and inconsolable. They woulda ended up like that for sure if they didn't have each other.

Their love saved them a million times in a million different ways. They was always there for each other, and always loved each other, and how many of us can say that about ourselves and our lives?

And after their most challengin' trial of all, they persevered against all odds and ended up havin' the time of their lives, laughin' and gigglin' in the middle of the night like mischievous little boys who stay up all night at a sleepover.

Lyin' side-by-side in a hospital bed, two incomplete and flawed halves united together in a perfect whole.

Speakin' of little boys, they first seen each other when they was 8, even though they officially met at the police academy. There was a time when Curly was reminiscin' about his boyhood hero, a fellow name of Maxie Malone, who had a children's TV show. And then Blondie said that he and his Cub Scout troop got to see the show in person one time and were in the audience.

They didn't realize it at the time, cuz they was thinkin' ‘bout the case they was workin' on, but it means that Curly SAW Blondie on TV. You know, cuz Blondie were in the audience.

Now you might protest, "But that don't mean that Curly positively, definitely saw Blondie, cuz what if Blondie didn't appear on camera? Or what if he appeared on camera when Curly went into the kitchen to get a snack or somethin'?" Don't we all know how he likes his snacks.

Well, I'm tellin' ya, he DID see him.

As for Maxie Malone, he was eventually forced to step down because of something he did concerning children. I won't tell you what it was, but you can prob'ly figure it out.

Fast forward to about 23 years later, give or take a few months or years, and that's where my story begins. Cuz that's when ‘Lijah encountered ‘em, drivin' that striped tomatuh in that dirty alleyway, when they gave him a dollar.

**Part Two - Suffering**

They called me Lonely. Ain't that just about the saddest damn thing you ever heard? A homeless bum named Lonely who cleaned toilets because he wanted to do a honest days work and earn a few bucks to survive.

But I did have one friend, at least. His name was Eddie. Like me, he worked at odd jobs when he could get ‘em.

But people called us old winos as if that's all we were and weren't nothin' else.

And if anything, Eddie shoulda been called Lonely instead a me because he certainly was that, after I was beaten to death. But you'll be happy to know that he ain't lonely or homeless no more.

I still don't really understand why me and him had to go through a trial by fire like we did though. I mean, we never hurt no one. We was nobodies. But somehow we was still considered sinners and had to suffer like the rest of ‘em. Although we sure as hell never suffered near as much as them boys did, God bless ‘em.

Maybe everyone has to suffer in this world, no matter whether they ever killed nobody or not. Whether they ever sinned or not. Or maybe it's the booze we drank, or because we was hungry and talked a little too eagerly about getting' a hot meal down at the mission. Maybe we was considered gluttons. Lord, don't that feel like a bum rap! We hadn't ever done nothin' to nobody, we minded our own business, we tried to be helpful, but someone up there still wanted us to pay our dues. Life just seems so unfair sometimes, don't it?

I don't mind so much for myself, but Eddie? Why, I mean he never harmed a fly in his life! Poor innocent Eddie. Got knocked about on the head in the paint factory that one time. And he was, how shall I phrase it? Simple-natured. He was innocent and sweet and he cried when I died. How can a man like that be considered a sinner in God's eyes? But he must a been, cuz he suffered like all the rest of us.

At least we're together up here now, me and Eddie, and he seems happy. He never knew how close he came to dyin' in that paint factory. He was ignorantly blissful, as they say. Until I was killed. After that, Eddie warn't ever the same. Even up here, he still bears some of those scars, I can tell. That's why he follows me around all the time, like he can't quite believe I'm really here with him.

He got here a few years after I did, the poor sap.

And speakin' of sufferin', the children suffered even more. And no, "suffer" in the Bible does not mean what you think it means. But they suffered on earth just the same. I mean, what kind of world is ok with a sweet innocent little boy being shoved into a garbage can, and by his mother, no less? The person he trusted most in this life! Or a child finding her daddy murdered two days before Christmas, now finding herself a orphan. I just will never understand how that can happen. ‘Course, her story ended nice, thank goodness, when she got a new momma and brother. But she sure did have to go through a trial to get there.

If you want to know the names of those children I'm talkin' about, it don't matter. Because there are thousands more just like ‘em.

Now, since I been up here and have an endless amount of time on my hands, I decided to educate myself a little. Did you know that the Vikings believed in a afterlife where great warriors and heroes would be welcomed by the god Odin to dwell with him in Valhalla?

They would spend their days fightin' because that's what Viking warriors loved to do most. But at the end of each day, they would be restored to health and rewarded with an abundance of the finest meat and drink.

The meat was wild boar and the drink was mead, which was a type of ale they drank back then. Similar to people today consuming, for example, delicate veal and fine wine.

The Vikings had a very different concept of a afterlife compared to most other cultures. But they, like all others, believed in what they considered to be the most wonderful place they could conceive of. And so that's where they went.

**Part Three - Touch**

As I was sayin', ‘Lijah first seen them when they come down his alleyway in their striped tomatuh. That's pronounced stripe-ed, by the way, with two syllables. He was lookin' for bottles an' cans to collect for deposit.

You might not think a nickel (or a bunch of ‘em) was worth much, but you'd be surprised to learn that in those days, a cup of coffee would only cost you about 35 cents. I'm talking diner coffee, a' course, cuz we didn't have no overpriced Starberks or nothin' like that back then.

So ‘Lijah told them about the end of the world already bein' here, and blondie (_Eddie just reminded me his name is Starpy_) gave ‘Lijah a dollar, and ‘Lijah were so touched by that small gesture that all he could say in response, with humility in his voice, was "You didn't have to do that." And Starpy replied simply, "I know."

That's how them boys were. They went out of their way to show compassion to the marginalized and the forgotten.

How many of us know someone who would do that?

Well 'Lijah proceeded to pay that gesture forward by buying his friend a cup of coffee.

Now I'll bet you thought ol' ‘Lijah was goin' to buy some booze with that money. Well it just goes to show you, how you can't judge a book by its cover.

So how do I know this about ‘Lijah and the dollar? Well, I prob'ly forgot to mention this, but I am sort of omnishunt now that I'm up here.

Now Starpy, he told ‘Lijah to put in a good word for him and Hup, but that war'nt strictly necessary, because as I said before, they was already blessed.

Since I'm omnishunt and all, I can see ever'thing that ever happened to those two boys, right from the time they was born. That's how I know about Maxie Malone. By the way, if you're wonderin', ol' Maxie didn't have no trial by fire. Because people who hurt children the way he hurt children don't have the option of redeemin' their sins and goin' to heaven. At least that's one thing that's fair about the world.

If you're wonderin', I can't see the entirety of everybody's lives, just them two boys. I think it's ‘cause they were the first to find my body after I died, and Blondie leaned over _and_ _touched me_, and then he and Curly both touched Eddie _at the exact same time_. They each put a hand on his arm and tried to console him.

And then Blondie grabbed that mean bookstore man by the tie in a most violent way on my behalf. And Curly told off that man after he said it didn't matter that I died ‘cause I was a old wino. He told him to look in the mirror. That man's name was Harry, and I never liked him much. Them boys sure did meet a lot of folks named Harry.

So somehow that gave me a special connection to them.

They went through the most tryin' times any two mere mortals could possibly go through in one lifetime, and they did most of it in four years, give or take a few months or years. ‘Course, Curly lost his daddy when he were a child. So that were a trial. Even children go through trials, as I pointed out earlier. I said the world warn't fair.

Blondie didn't lose a parent or nothin' but going through a divorce and then finding your ex-wife's dead body in your living room ain't exactly a walk in the park neither. Especially when you end up almost being arrested for the crime, which you didn't commit. The only reason he survived that nightmare was because of his devoted partner, who comforted him and risked his own freedom to defend him.

How many people would do that for us?

But it was the attempted killins of them, and the killins of their loved ones, and their assorted diseases and such that really tested their love and devotion to each other and their faith in the world and in themselves.

But they got through each and every one, and they were sometimes even happy in between those times.

And this despite the fact the world they lived in was a cesspool filled with decay and rot and alleyways littered with wet papers and society's misfits and misfortunates, junkies and drug dealers, and desperate people working in thankless professions, none of whom had much happiness at all.

Because none of them had a friend like that.

**Part Four - Me and Thee**

Those boys lived in a god-forsaken world where fake priests took advantage of hapless deaf-mutes; cultists sacrificed virgins in the name of Satan, or Simon, or whatever other name he went by; fraudsters sold whatever new-age religion people desperately wanted to believe in, and ersatz psychics took people's money while telling ‘em what they wanted to hear.

Occasionally, the psychics were the real deal, but they suffered too, because their psychic ability was their own trial by fire.

Every day, them two boys perambulated through a world where exploited women toiled in smoky strip clubs with burnt-out signs; where bullied and browbeaten immigrants labored in sweatshops, and what little recompence they was given was stolen from them. A forsaken world where grinning, gap-toothed psychopaths frenetically shot hungry customers while their silent, stony-faced accomplices looked on; where amoral hitmen who fancied themselves morally superior massacred teenagers at point-blank range.

It was a topsy-turvy world where asylum inmates were sane, doctors murdered their patients, and crazy-eyed lunatics with maniacal laughs tried to kill caregivers while wearin' decapitated Raggedy-Ann doll t-shirts.

Where crippled homicidal outcasts, used up and discarded by a cruel and callous world, turned on those who might have shown them mercy.

It was a world where beefed-up assassins wearin' strange silver jackets, and lookin' like escaped convicts from a science fiction B-movie, gunned down husbands and fathers trying to turn their lives around for the sake of their families. A world where sociopathic rapists with chilling ice-blue eyes and a peculiar interest in orange-colored spray paint delighted in preying on helpless victims. And men who made a game out of tricking 19-year old girls on their birthdays and snatchin' their innocence like a crocodile seizin' its prey.

A world where little girls grew up to be prostitutes, alcoholics, and junkies, and shops that once sold dolls and trains to innocent children eventually became places where you had to be 18 to enter, because their toys were not meant for children to know about.

In this virtual hell on earth, fair-haired novice policemen took innocent lives because they didn't like the color of a man's skin. And mothers had to bury their sons instead of the other way around. Where vain men with real mirrors and fake hair tried to end a life for purely selfish reasons.

Where small men with delusions of grandeur, who admired the greatest presidents and generals, thought they could command respect by wearing quasi-military jackets and taking advantage of vulnerable boys, turning them into monsters to exact vengeance for them.

Even the cars in this world were condemned in a way. They were beaten and dented, filled with empty soup cans and discarded trash, and looking like they belonged in a junk yard with the rest of the garbage. Or they was shiny cars painted candy-apple red and riddled with bullet holes what spent countless days drivin' past endless pawn shops, fishtailin' around dusty corners, and passin' the same pale yellow beetles, whose occupants might have been on their way to a last desperate chance of savin' their families and themselves.

It was a world where people who'd had enough of the endless stress, and no one to turn to for support, ended up wrappin' themselves in tinfoil and believin' that radio waves was tryin' to kill ‘em.

Or else believin' that everyone was conspirin' against ‘em and that revenge was always sweet, even if it wouldn't bring back their dead sons or their dead enterprises.

Because there's a fine line between sanity and insanity. One day you're listenin' to a voice on the radio, comin' seemingly from the ether, calling you Zebra Three, and the next day you're in Cabrillo State, seein' zebras comin' out the walls.

Talkin' ‘bout zebras remind me of the time Blondie asked "Did you ever see a fat lion?" and Curly rejoined with "No; come to think of it, I never seen a thin hoppopitamus either." Snort, them boys was always jokin' and tryin' to one-up each other. Course, Blondie got the last laugh (as usual) when he replied "Wait ‘til your order comes back." That was on account of the absolutely gluttonous meal his friend had ordered. Of course, ‘twas another trial they had to endure where they couldn't eat for forty hours, although beer was allowed for some reason. The Lord sure do work in mysterious ways.

Day after day, almost without respite, curly and blondie encountered society's marginalized, disenfranchised, misfortunate, and lonely. The people who trudged wearily through the world, each in his or her own version of hell, just tryin' to get through the day.

I'm talkin' about the homeless bums; the junkies and the drug dealers who enabled them; women who had to sell their bodies in order to survive, whose indecency on the outside was transcended by their sweet nature and child-like innocence on the inside; wives who lived in constant fear of their police officer husbands never coming home, and men who had to tell their granddaughters that their daddies would never again take them to the movies.

Waiters and bartenders, dishwashers and cab drivers, strippers and go-go dancers, and all manner of blue-collar, low-wage workers who toiled daily in thankless professions; good people hopelessly addicted to gambling because they were lonely or bored; fences and petty thieves, bail bondsmen and widowed refugees, they all did what they could to get by.

And 13-year old boys from the ghetto who licked ice-cream cones while daydreaming of someday becoming a pimp or a drug dealer, because they hadn't the opportunity to imagine anything else.

Curly and Blondie always had compassion for the down-and-out, the prostitutes, junkies, the homeless and mentally ill. And especially for the scared and abused children. They held a special place in their hearts for people like that, and I like to think they made just a tiny bit of difference in those people's sad, miserable lives, when no one else cared about them at all.

They crossed paths with amoral hucksters who hustled working people out of their hard-earned mortgages and with green-suited pimps who peddled young girls like they was used cars.

There was the smug, rich assholes who called themselves "businessmen" while spending their days lounging around paneled offices, eatin' Russian caviar and drinkin' the finest scotch and champagne. Those men with their saunas and swimming pools and stamp collections, their fresh-picked corn spit out like so much detritus, and various enterprises around the globe which meant more to them than actual people did.

Businessmen who produced nothin' but misery and despair.

And a' course, some of those people tried to kill them on multiple occasions, and occasionally succeeded in killin' their loved ones.

Then there was the people in positions of power who they thought they could trust, who they was supposed to trust. The judges and lawyers and police lieutenants; the captains who decided which bad guys to arrest and which ones they would look the other way. There were the assistant district attorneys who decided that rape cases were only worthy if they was guaranteed a win, and people high up in all levels of government who betrayed them.

Those folks held the power to do good and help people, but they wielded that power to do evil instead. They was the ones who let them down the most.

Those businessmen and judges and the like, they was supposed to be the good guys. Because of their wealth and their standing in society, it was understood that they was morally superior to the rest of us. But in truth they was the most morally deficient of all, while those judged harshly by society simply because they had the misfortune to be born, was the most morally pure.

They couldn't trust no one but each other.

**Part Five - Trials and Tribulations**

Now I want to tell you about the incident with a gangster named Forest and his lackey named Monk.

It happened because Blondie didn't tell Curly his plans for the weekend, only that he was going away with his girl, Jeannie, to a secret location. That was a mistake. He shoulda told his partner where he would be, if nothin' only for the sake of communicatin'. One should always communicate with the people they love. They always found themselves in trouble when they didn't.

So it happened that Monk and the other bad guys bashed Blondie on the head and konked him out, and then took him to Monk's house for "questioning." I say questioning but it was really to beat and torture information out of him, to tell them where the girl was. But for those of you who get upset at the idea, you can think of it as questioning.

Although I do believe some of you actually like the idea of Blondie gettin' hurt. Go figure. The world today, I just don't understand it.

And a' course Blondie wasn't going to give away the information easily.

So Forest gets this idea in his head that if they strung him out on heroin, he would be so desperate and outta his mind that he'd practically beg them to ask him where she was. And while Forest warn't always right, he were right about that. Only Monk warn't too happy with the idea, see, because Monk warn't totally without empathy at first.

But he went along with it because what could he do? I mean, I s'pose he coulda made a anonymous call to the police at some point, if he wanted to redeem himself. But then he got all greedy like and his head swoled up and he didn't care about the blond no more. Course, that was his mistake, seein' as how he ended up dead a couple days later an' all. And he didn't get no trial neither.

But before I proceed further, I must caution those of you in the UK. You Brits might not want to read this next part, ‘cause it gets kinda graphic and the morally uptight citizens brigade over there might get their panties all in a twist if you was to read it. Maybe in twenty years or so, they'll let you.

So with that said, poor Blondie got it in the arm, like six times over them four days. In addition to being beat up, now he was also strung out. Thinkin' about it, it gets me upset, even though I know ever'thing worked itself out and he was ok in the end. It's just that he was so nice to me after I died and ever'thing. Always had a soft spot for people like me ‘n' Eddie.

Anyway, Blondie failed to show up for work Monday mornin', and that set Cap'n Dobey off, it sure did; he was right pissed at Blondie's no show. Unusual for him though, Curly warn't none too concerned at first. He just assumed that his partner was still with his lady friend. Sometimes I've noticed that Curly isn't always tuned in to what's goin' on, on account of his always bein' so tired.

But most of the time he's tuned into Blondie, even when sound asleep.

Like there was this time in Las Vegas when Blondie got bad news about his friend Jack's brain tumor (that was Jack's trial by fire) and muttered softly to hisself "oh, dammit," and even though Curly hadn't slept for somethin' like forty hours, he stirred outta his sleep when he heard Blondie's voice. And then that same thing happened later, when he heard Blondie's voice while in a comer after being shot.

Hearin' Blondie's voice from his comer is the thing what woke him up; like sleepin' beauty, only without the kissin.' Maybe one of you might like to write about that, how Curly woke up after bein' kissed by Blondie. After all, I know some a' you really like that sort of thing.

Well where was I? Anyway, then Curly went to Blondie's house (which was a cute-as-a-button cottage on a canal, with a picket fence and ducks and er'thing), and right away he knew somethin' was wrong, because Blondie's gun and holster was hung up on the closet door, and Curly knew that warn't right. Now if only Curly knew where Jeannie was, he coulda charged over there and maybe she woulda told him ‘bout Forest, and he coulda found Blondie sooner. But ‘a course that didn't happen because they needed to go through their trial.

Fortunately that nice policeman saw Blondie scamperin' through the streets like a rabid dog runnin' like his tail were on fire and followed him to the alleyway.

Then Curly found him and he knew straight away that his friend was strung out, and he knew he couldn't risk taking him to the hospital, so he took him to Huggy's and got him clean in the room above the bar. And I have to give credit to Huggy, because he were a great help to Curly. That Huggy is a real friend to them boys, alright.

And I have to be honest, when I saw that scene play out (it happened before I died, but like I said, I'm omnishunt), I got tears in my eyes. Curly got tears in his eyes too; I saw him look up and blink them away. Because it were really hard for him to see his friend like that.

Kinda like when Eddie saw me layin' there in the parking lot outside the Stardust Bookstore, and not believin' I was dead at first, ‘cause Eddie don't really understand things like that. When he finally understood I was gone and warn't never comin' back, he started cryin.' And then Curly patted Eddie's stomach to comfort him and I started cryin' too, watchin' it all from my new place up here.

Blondie was a damn sight to see, too. He hadn't showered in four days and he was covered in blood, dirt, sweat and vomit, and he was in a real bad way. Do you know what the symptoms of heroin withdrawal are? They are not pretty, to say the least. I'm talkin' ‘bout sweatin', severe muscle pain, insomnia, intense cravings, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, you name it, it's not pleasant. And then there's the anxiety. The longer the dry spell lasts, the worse the anxiety gets. So a' course Curly was all broken up seein' his friend sufferin' like that. But he's such a loyal friend, such a good boy, that Curly, that he held Blondie on that bed just as gentle as a parent holds a child, and he didn't care what it might look like. And he comforted Blondie and got him through his ordeal.

Then there was Blondie's temper tantrums, like when he punched the wall next to Curly 's head and Curly was so tender and loving with him; the way they stood there together in front of that door, with Curly holdin' him and Blondie leanin' his head against Curly 's chest. So much emotion between them two, they didn't even need to talk or nothin'.

Say, do you think the moral outrage of those representatives who insisted on speakin' for everyone in the UK was due to the depiction of heroin addiction? Or was it because two men were holdin' each other in bed?

By the next day, Curly looked almost as bad as Blondie. He didn't get much sleep in that armchair, usin' only a bath towel for a blanket, and having to constantly wake up whenever Blondie would push the chairs out the way to try to escape and get hisself a fix. He had wanted more than anything to lie in the bed next to Blondie, but thought it better to guard the door.

It was good to see Blondie feelin' better after his shower; you knew he was feelin' better when he found somethin' to complain about, by tellin' Huggy the razor was dull. Lordy, that Blondie was always bein' contrary!

Now I warn't too happy when Huggy gave Blondie cab fare, but I assume it was because he was scared of him and gave in to his demands. Not the brightest move on Huggy's part, in my opinion, but it had to happen because Blondie's trial warn't over quite yet.

Now speakin' about blinkin' back tears, I know I did when I watched them boys hug each other in the alleyway after Monk got killed. I can't speak of what Monk's reaction was though, ‘cause he definitely ain't join me up here, if you get my drift.

And you know that hug was just because they loved each other. When they finished huggin', they gazed upon each other with beatific smiles on their faces and love in their eyes.

Now, did I tell you ‘bout that time Curly was shot in the Italian restaurant? Well it happened a few months after their ordeal with the heroin, and this time it was Blondie's turn to take care of Curly . You see, these two out-of-state hitmen went there to eliminate a local mob boss, name of Vic Monte. But then the jumpy one got all trigger-happy and shot at Curly twice, hittin' him pretty hard in the back of his shoulder. That Curly was always gettin' injured in his shoulder, somehow.

So Curly was layin' on the floor, moanin' and twitchin' amongst the vegetables that Theresa the waitress had dropped from her tray, on account of Curly tryin' to shove her back in the kitchen to save her life. Even that jumpy hitman did a double-take when he came out the kitchen and saw Curly like that.

And then Blondie sprang into action and took charge of the situation, tellin' those hitmen he didn't care what they did as long as he could get his friend to a hospital. But they warn't gonna let him do that, so he picked Curly up and carried him thirty feet to the back office, all by hisself, and laid him gently down on the sofa.

Blondie had to figure out how to keep Curly alive and comfortable and protect all them innocent restaurant patrons, but he knew nothin' would matter if he couldn't disarm them bad guys.

But you shoulda seen how caring and tender he was with his partner, makin' sure he felt as comfortable as possible in them circumstances. Eventually it started to get to him, and he leaned against the wall about to cry, with all the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And Curly didn't want to let him go neither. He kept clutchin' Blondie's legs and knees like he was the warmest security blanket ever. He grasped at pretty much everywhere on Blondie's person he could reach. And I DO mean everywhere.

And then, when Blondie was in the other room with the bad guys, and Curly heard gunshots, he thought Blondie was shot or worse, and he rolled off that sofa onto the floor and tried to crawl his way to help. And when Blondie found him layin' there, he held Curly in his arms and didn't let on that he knew Curly was losing feelin' in his arm on account of the nerve damage from the bullet. He loved Curly so much that it hurt.

And he had the darndest time helpin' Curly up to a sittin' position. By the time he got him propped up against the couch, poor Blondie was exhausted and breathin' heavily from all the exertion. Then he laid his hand on Curly's shoulder and rested his head against Curly's, ever so gently.

Eventually, they got through their ordeal; but a few months later another thing happened to poor Curly, which was that he was poisoned.

See, this drug dealer that Curly had once arrested, he conspired with a grieving professor to shoot up Curly and Blondie with a slow-acting fatal poison. I know it sounds kinda ridiculous but bear with me here. For whatever reason, he only got to Curly , leavin' Blondie able to come to his rescue. When Curly fell outta the bed and onto the floor, hangin' onto the telephone by a thread, he could barely dial or speak a word. But somehow he managed to dial Blondie's number and he got out but two words just before he fell unconscious.

Them boys spent the next twenty-four hours workin' together to find the culprits and the antidote. Blondie never left Curly's side unless he had to. He hugged Curly tight when he collapsed in the alleyway and held his hand in the squad room, not caring a whit about who saw them.

And then Curly did a most astonishing thing. When they finally found the man who had the key to saving his life, a fellow name of Bellamy, Curly went and shot him dead 5 times, in order to save Blondie's life, just before he collapsed in his partner's arms.

As I said before, they loved each other so much they would give their life to save the other.

And when it came time to say goodbye, words were not necessary and could not have done justice to what they were feeling. Instead, Blondie placed his hand on Curly 's shoulder as they looked into each other's eyes with tears forming in their own, neither wanting to leave.

But that warn't the only trials they had to endure. There were many more. But they got through them because they had each other.

This one time, Curly was viciously seized and beaten by a bunch of brainwashed cultists. Blondie went to see the devil hisself and then sat up all night, with help from Huggy and Cap'n Dobey, to solve the riddle hidden in the devil's words. Blondie was always good with words.

Them boys could always count on Huggy's support. And Cap'n Dobey was a good man who was like a father to them, and who always had their backs, even when they exasperated him to no end with their merry juvenile pranks. He was always yellin' at ‘em, but in a good-natured and loving way, the same way he yelled at his own kids about moving their bicycles.

When Blondie finally found Curly, just in the nick of time, as the cultists lunged at Curly with all manner of sharp and blunt instruments, Blondie singlehandedly fought them off, to the point where his knuckles was all red and bruised up. That Blondie was always gettin' his hand injured.

And then he and Curly clutched each other like a desperate mother and child, more relieved than they ever was in their entire life, cryin' and holdin' on to each other. And despite there bein' people all around them, it was like they was all alone in their safe cocoon, just the two of ‘em.

After that it was Curly 's turn to save his partner, when he was the victim of a hit and ended up trapped under his overturned car at the bottom of a ravine. Curly wouldn't let nothin' or nobody get in his way from findin' his partner. But it were because he had a way of connectin' with people with mental illness, that he were able to find Blondie's location in time.

When he finally located him, he damn near slammed his body into Blondie's, and then he lovingly held Blondie's face in his hands as he bent down close, sayin' "We made it partner." I swear, I thought he was maybe goin' to kiss Blondie at that point.

When Blondie were released from the hospital, Curly affectionately pushed him in his wheelchair and wheeled him over to a surprise, which was a new car that Curly had bought him. It was exactly like the one that was wrecked, down to the blaring car horn and ever'thing, despite Curly never likin' that car. It was a most unselfish gesture.

One of the most tryin' times came when Blondie was stricken with a plague-like illness that had killed a bunch of people already and didn't look like it would spare Blondie any more than it spared them. He was put in isolation and they was separated from each other by a window, but it might as well have been a million miles.

Curly couldn't even say goodbye before Blondie was wheeled away. He warn't even allowed to touch him. That was the worst part, Blondie bein' all alone and sufferin' in that room, and Curly not even bein' able to console him.

At one point, Curly got hold of some red lipstick and wrote his own name on the window, as a comfort to Blondie while he lay there dyin'. Curly didn't write his entire name though, just the fond nickname that Blondie had always called him.

As Blondie was writhin' in pain, Curly watched him through the glass with a fixed expression on his face and a nose reddened from cryin'.

When the doctors finally let Curly in to see him, he grasped Blondie's hands in his own. As he watched Blondie barely able to take a breath, Curly knitted his eyebrows in a effort to suppress a sob. But it were too much for Curly, and before he even got to the antechamber, he had ripped off his face mask and gloves in despair.

And that still warn't all the trials they faced, not by a longshot. They was locked in strange airtight rooms; shot at in dusty cornfields and dirty oil refineries; threatened, harassed, and betrayed, and framed for crimes committed by others.

They endured, in part, because they had a uncanny way of working together, as if they each knew in advance what the other was thinkin'. It was almost as if they could communicate telepathically.

Then there was the women they loved, who were viciously murdered by jealous men with twisted morals, and even sometimes it was women themselves who tried to kill them.

There was that time when Curly 's lady, Terry was shot in the head by a man bent on fruitless revenge, and Curly asked her to marry him. She said no, but I don't know if that was because she was dyin' or because she understood that Curly couldn't possibly love anyone more than he loved Blondie. And Blondie was there for them, every step of the way. He helped Curly arrest the bad man, he drove Terry's worried students home from the hospital, and he supported Curly unflinchingly. Two weeks after Terry died, Blondie and Curly sat on the floor together and cried as they opened her gifts.

Each and every time, they were there for each other.

Even when the worst of all happened.

Now when Blondie's lady, Gillian, was killed, he poured all his rage and grief into Curly, his partner and dear friend, who let Blondie hit him without even fightin' back. Then Curly held him so tight while Blondie sobbed, safely enveloped in his friend's arms. I saw Curly kiss him on his shoulder, too.

But when it was Curly who was dyin' from those three bullets, Blondie had nowhere for his emotions to go. And if I told you how distraught he was when Gillian died, I don't even have the words to express how he felt when he knew Curly was dyin'. His heart was overflowin' with a sickening feelin' of agony, grief, and rage, but he kept it mostly bottled up inside. There warn't no one who could offer him comfort, not even Huggy or Dobey, and they knew it.

Blondie's emotions were so palpable that I could feel them radiating out. At one point, he was so enraged and despondent that he balled up his fist, winced hard, and struck the hard arm of his chair in a fit of despair. The noise were so loud it startled me as I were watchin' him.

He were in shock, and after that, he just walked around in a stupor, not knowing where he should be goin', and knockin' into people without hardly bein' aware of ‘em.

Blondie was too afraid to even touch Curly, too afraid to get comfortable in his chair, so he sat in the most curious, tenuous way, as if leanin' back would somehow cause harm to his fragile friend. He dared not even speak, lest the soundwaves cause physical stress to Curly's ravaged body. He lifted his hand tentatively and just as quickly dropped it down.

Then some other stuff happened and Blondie had to leave the hospital.

And because Curly hadn't been able to sense him at all, he started flatlinin'. It was like he thought, in his unconscious state, that Blondie had died and left him all alone, and so he just gave up. Because if Blondie was gone, he had no will to live.

Kinda like what Curly said when Blondie had the botulism and time was runnin' out to find him.

But when Blondie heard what was happenin', he burst through them double doors and raced down the hall towards Curly; and somehow Curly was able to sense him. Because _at that exact moment_, just as the doctors was about to give up, his heart started beatin' again.

But it warn't until Blondie spoke to him that Curly awoken. It were the sound of Blondie's voice what brought him back.

Now if that ain't the purest manifestation of love, I surely don't know what is.

**Part Six - Hijinx and Shenanigans**

Now the way I been goin' on, you might think there warn't never any joy or humor in them boys life, but that's actually not the case at all.

They was always jokin' with each other and playin' pranks on Cap'n Dobey. There was all sorts of terrific shenanigans they got themselves into.

There was this one time when they went campin' up at Pine Lake and Blondie kept ticklin' Curly and pretendin' it were a spider. Then the lights went out and Blondie made owl noises so he could scare Curly. And he even managed to make a grizzly bear noise!

And also, Curly wore this long, snug, form-fittin' red underwear that strained against his well-toned physique, and in the brightness of the sun you could see every kind of bulgin' muscle and I do mean EVERY kind, and .........wait, where was I now?

Good lord, I blushed and had to close my eyes. It were positively indecent. But thank goodness there warn't any violence like shootouts or car chases, ‘cause that woulda surely have been more offensive.

Another time, Blondie was pretendin' to be a wealthy cowboy from Texas and Curly was a mustachioed Argentinian dance instructor with a funny accent, and they got to dancin' in Dobey's office all sweet and romantic-like, with the furniture all pushed back against the walls to make room.

Well anyway, after they finish, Blondie made a sardonic joke about how "No one is a dip like Ramon." That was Curly 's name for his undercover persona. Well Blondie just about congratulated hisself on his witty repartee when Curly grabbed him and dipped him totally unexpectedly; tellin' him, "If you got it, flaunt it, boy." And then Blondie ain't got nothin' to say in return, unusual for him, ‘cept for a stunned expression.

Then there was that time when them boys made up these business cards that said "Snack Bar" and they put Dobey's office extension on ‘em, and all day long police was calling Dobey askin' to deliver them hamburgs and fries. And Dobey just about blew his stack after a few days of that business.

But Curly and Blondie ain't give nothin' away that it was them. And then they made up some more cards for plumbin' service, and then people was callin' Dobey to fix their toilet. I was rollin' on the floor when I seen that. It were a terrific prank.

Most of the misfortunates they encountered didn't have no reason to laugh much in their lives. Because they didn't have no one to laugh with.

If you have a best buddy who you can have fun with, then consider yourself blessed.

**Epilogue**

Some say that Curly and Blondie's relationship is the greatest love story of all time.

It was their unconditional love for each other that got them through the trying times, the hurt times, the wretchedness and hopelessness they encountered daily. The beauty of their love was a marked contrast to the ugliness of the world around them. When they were together, the outside world dissolved away until there was no one left but the two of them. And nothing else mattered.

If you're thinking, "Lonely, how come you suddenly know words like _unconditional _and_ marked_, when before you sounded like a discarded extra from Moonshine?"

Well, I did tell you I was omniscient and all. So yes, I know how to spell them and how to pronounce them. But I wanted you to hear how I sound when I speak as my natural self, the one I had for 67 years on this earth before I was brutally murdered by those two thugs sent by them Cleveland interlopers.

I watched from up here when that odd man with the facial tics killed Blondie's lady, stranglin' her with those same hands he so tenderly held his momma's hands with earlier.

I am not embarrassed to tell you that when I saw them boys huggin' and cryin' over her body, I was cryin' along with them.

So was Gillian. I know, because she was standin' next to me at the time. We watched them together from our new place up here. We was killed by the same people and arrived here the same week, so we was just gettin' used to the place.

You'll be glad to hear she's happy now, though. As a matter a' fact, she's going to be editin' and publishin' my story when I finish writin' it. She's got her typewriter all ready to go and is eager to get started.

Right now though, she's walkin' arm-in-arm with Terry. Them two ladies bonded when they each got up here. It were only a few months apart.

They're both happy now because they know that the men they loved are happy as well, where they are.

"And where's that?" you might ask.

Well, it's wherever you want them to be, in the most wonderful place you can imagine.

Whether them boys are up here singin' with the angels, or down on earth fightin' with the devils, or someplace else, sittin' together in a double-rockin' chair, waterin' their plants and readin' to each other from the newspaper, they're together and they're happy.

And that's where they will always be.

**~The End~**

**P.S.**

**Not mentioned:**

Voodoo priests

Cruise ships

Vampires

Amnesia

Abandoned amusement parks in Mandalay Heights

Snakes that come in refrigerators

Mouse downs

Sweet, well-meaning senior citizens fed-up with inferior meals who decide to terrorize an entire city and kill who knows how many city employees working on a Sunday because they had a project due on Monday morning

Spotted dogs and orphaned kittens

Demented ex-actors disguised as homicidal nuns

Chasing look-alikes who are in the first Torino when you are in the second Torino because they're the bad guys and you are chasing them

Hairdressers with bad wigs and funny accents

That two completely different people were named Fireball

That two completely different people were named Monk

The pipe-smoking piggy bank

Sweet little Belle and where the heck was the Torino parked in that scene, anyway?

Blondie ejacu..... _not even sure how to describe this in a PG way_ champagne all over Curly's face

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so hopefully it wasn't too terrible. In fact, it's pretty much the first thing of anything I've ever written, except for a poem about Bermuda I wrote a few years ago.
> 
> After rediscovering the show and my love for it after almost 40 years, I had all these thoughts and feelings in my head that I needed to get out. This story was the result. It's my homage to the show and its characters, stories, and themes that resonate even today.
> 
> When I finished writing it, I assumed it would be the only S&H fic I would write, because I thought I was out of ideas.
> 
> Fast forward five months later, and now I've written more than 30 S&H stories and poems, with more to come.


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